In Good Hands
by stupidknife
Summary: Robert makes the cross between universes and finds himself in good hands. Warning: presence of an OC.


Your head hurts.

It's not the most scientific observation you've ever made, but it's the first thing you're aware of as you come awake. There's a startling blankness to your thoughts at the moment and the back of your neck prickles almost painfully with fear. Your first few seconds in this new world and you're already finding it a dreadful experience.

There are hands on your face, small ones, soft and delicate. They raise your head gently and slowly and you groan because even that small movement makes your head swim. There are noises after that, some sharper than others, but the prevailing ones seem to be right next to your ear. They form a voice and while you can't make sense of the words, the tone is soothing and kind.

"It's alright, Mr. Lutece," says the voice when you are able to pick out more than the occasional syllable. "You're in good hands."

After that everything seems to run together. You want to open your eyes but some unknown fear keeps them shut tight, even as you feel your weight displaced and more hands smoothing your clothes, laying your limbs, being propped on your side. There is a vague sense of distance from events as they take place and you attribute this to shock, but it doesn't stop you from wanting to close the distance.

You take a deep breath and lift leaden eyelids.

The world is a painful, bright sort of place. You squint and blink against the harshness of the light, turning your head from side to side to see how best to continue this course of action, but a hand on your forehead stills the movement before you can find the right angle.

"Hello, Mr. Lutece," says the soft voice. You turn and meet a pair of sparkling dark blue eyes. They are unfamiliar to you, which is not surprising, but you feel a great sense of comfort anyway as soon as you meet them (which _is_ surprising, but you're not about to tell anyone about that). Your vision clears a little more and you are able to see the face attached to the eyes. It smiles at you. "Welcome to our Columbia."

Columbia. Your memory is starting to come together now, slowly and painfully though it is. The pain that had driven out even the most basic of knowledge upon your arrival has not lessened, exactly, but you are able to reason through it. You know your name (Robert Lutece) and your profession (a master of the physical sciences, specifically physics themselves), and your family (your twin sister—

"Rosalind!" You look up and the face with the eyes is panicked, turning off to the side where it is still too bright for you to see properly. You're unsure of what has got her so troubled, but feel a sudden itch as something trickles out of your nose.

You raise a hand to your face and are surprised to feel something slick and warm running over your lips and down your chin in a thin, weak stream. You pull your hand away and it's—blood. Your nose is bleeding. And—ugh, God—the headache is even worse. Something mad and horribly violent is trying to escape from your head.

"What? What is it?" says another voice, accompanied by hurried footsteps. This voice is sharper, more familiar. Though you've never heard it before—except, of course, you have—you are immediately able to place it. The owner of the voice finally comes into clarity and you aren't surprised in the least. She, however, is. She gasps. "Oh, Robert…"

Those eyes, viridian and bright and deep set with the heavy lids, look down at you and you can't help but smile and smile and smile. You've done it—you've both _done_ it.

"Ros," you say, croaking on her name. You both wince at the same time, and then you flinch away from a hand in your face. It's only the hand of the woman, though, who was talking to you before. She has a handkerchief and is trying to help you clean your face.

"It seems you had quite a trip," Rosalind says. She sounds a little breathless, which is understandable. This is the first time you've had the chance to really speak face-to-face. (But it isn't, is it? Your brain keeps trying to say it's not, that there are clear memories of times before even though it can't provide the evidence just yet.)

You smile again, because you're just so happy that it worked. So many things can be done now, so much can be learned. Even though your headache is roaring and the blood is still dripping and you can taste the salt and the metal on your tongue, you're still _here_. Neither of you will ever be alone ever again. That's the important thing. You'll never be alone again, because you'll have one another.

Darkness is starting to encroach on your vision, though, and you can feel unconsciousness looming. It's unfair, you think, that you have to let go so soon. There are so many questions you want to ask, so many things you want to do. You must make some kind of displeased noise, because both women are focused on you. Rosalind's hand slips into yours and for the first time, she really smiles.

"You should lay back now, Mr. Lutece," says the woman with the handkerchief. Her voice is still so very soothing and you meet her eyes again. Dark and sparkling, they're a reassurance. Neither of them are going anywhere—they'll both be here when you awake. And then the real adventure will begin.

You lay back and close your eyes and darkness prevails.

* * *

The other woman is not Elizabeth. She's a character who also does not belong to me but shall remain nameless for the present because this kind of comes out of the middle of something else I've been working on on-and-off for a while now. Someday I might explain, but for now just enjoy a bit of Robert and Ros and the Mystery Lady.


End file.
